


Across a Dream

by thenerdyindividual



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Cinderella Elements, Dances and balls, Demisexual Arthur Pendragon, Fluff and Angst, Good Morgana (Merlin), Jealous Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Minor Gwen/Morgana (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24857302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenerdyindividual/pseuds/thenerdyindividual
Summary: Arthur repeals the ban on magic almost as soon as he becomes king, but things don't really change for Merlin. He knows that if Arthur ever found out about the lies, he'd never be forgiven. So he keeps his magic hidden just like he did before. Then to mark the one year anniversary of the repeal, Arthur hosts a ball. Merlin decides to disguise himself, and go to the ball as Emrys to keep an eye out for his friend. The idea is only partly motivated by jealousy.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 75
Kudos: 1058





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin isn’t sure when it happened. Maybe it was after the fifth time Arthur denounced sorcery as a dark corrupting force, possibly the fifth. Either way at some point, after years of friendship, Merlin came to the realization he could never tell Arthur the truth. Even if Arthur came to see magic as simply a force, good and bad only to the extent of its user, he could never find out about Merlin. The betrayal would break them, and Merlin can’t fathom giving up Arthur and all he entails. He wouldn’t just be giving up his best friend, he’d be giving up his home, and he’d be giving up Gwen, Gaius, the knights.

So when Arthur lifts the ban on sorcery, it is a cause for celebration. Merlin gets drunk when Arthur lets him off for the night, and cheers in the tavern with the sorcerers who’d been in hiding. Then he crawls back to his room, and has a silent moment with Gaius. The look they exchange spells out everything. Merlin will never get to live out in the open. He must be content with being happy for his kin.

He stays in hiding, continuing to save Arthur from the shadows. He ignores the celebrations Arthur attends in honor of things like Solstice Rituals, and other Old Religion holidays. He ignores it when Arthur starts planning a ball to mark the one year anniversary of the ban being lifted, and does a pretty good job of it until about a week in advance.

He’s clearing Arthur’s chambers, and be clearing it’s more like shoving all the dust bunnies under Arthur’s bed and pretending to dust the wardrobe, when Arthur looks up form the report he’s been pouring over.

“I want to give you a night off.” He announces.

Merlin nearly drops his rag in surprise, “What? Why?”

“Must you sound so suspicious, Merlin?” 

“You never give me a night off. I broke my pinky toe once, and you still asked me to bring dinner.” Merlin points out.

“Now hang on,” Arthur says indignantly, “I didn’t know you broke your toe! You didn’t tell me until you came up with a tray!”

“A horse trod on my foot, Arthur.”

“You didn’t make any noise to indicate pain! How was I—” Arthur cuts himself off, “Regardless. The night of the ball, take a night off.”

“Won’t you need me to pour you wine or something?” Merlin asks, leaning against the wardrobe.

“If we were having a feast, then yes. But a ball requires less staff.”

“Why are you having a ball anyway? I know you don’t like dancing with the ladies of the court. They always make passes at you.”

Arthur‘s face crinkles up in confusion, “Have you listened to a word I’ve said since we started planning this?"

Merlin grins sheepishly. Really, he’s just been tuning Arthur out. While he’s overjoyed for his kin, all this celebration has done for him is remind him how much he’s keeping hidden from Arthur. How he can never in good conscious act on the looks Arthur sometimes sends his way throughout the day. His situation has changed only in that if Arthur finds out Merlin will get to keep his head.

Arthur rolls his eyes, “It’s a winder you get anywhere in life, Merlin. I swear everything goes in one ear and out the other with you.”

“Are you going to answer my question, or just sit there and talk about how despite being an idiot I am somehow still smarter than you?”

Arthur huffs out a laugh, obviously trying to hide his amusement at the insult, “I have been informed by various people that feasts are stuffy, boring, and not at all suited for anything other than political discussion.”

“Right. So why are you giving me the night off?” 

“I... well…” Arthur starts, uncharacteristically hesitant, “I thought you might like the time to remember.”

“Remember?”

“I know the lift on the ban has been a bit emotionally tricky, for you especially.”

It’s like someone has thrown Merlin into a deep, unfordable river. Icy cold terror drenches him from head to toe, filling his lungs. His heart pounds. _How can he know?_

“Why me, especially?” Merlin chokes out, praying his voice doesn’t betray him.

Arthur’s attention has returned back to the parchment in front of him. Merlin gets the idea that Arthur is avoiding looking at him. Merlin clenches his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Arthur has never been subtle. Surely if he knew, he would have just said something. He wouldn’t just let Merlin stay in his service. 

“Your friend, from Ealdor. He was a sorcerer.” Arthur says, and Merlin can breathe a little easier.

“He was.” 

“It can’t have been easy listening to me go on about the evils of sorcery all this time when you knew I was wrong,” Arthur says, still not looking up, “I appreciate the restraint you showed, and I thought I’d reward you with some time off. Go have a drink in his memory.”

Merlin blinks, and smiles a bit, “That’s surprisingly nice of you.”

Arthur looks up from the desk again, shooting Merlin an annoyed look, “Keep pushing and instead of having the night off I’ll make you do Gwaine’s laundry.”

Merlin’s nose wrinkles, “But his socks smell.”

“Then you had better listen to me hadn’t you?”

Merlin holds his hands up in a parody of surrender, and goes back to his chores. When several minutes of silence have passed between them, Merlin pauses again.

“Hey, Arthur?”

“Yes, Merlin?” Arthur asks, adorably annoyed.

“Thanks.”

The annoyed look on Arthur’s face softens into a smile, and he nods once. 

They’ve never been good at emotions, the two of them. This is the closest they’ve come to an emotional conversation since Arthur dramatically confessing his feelings for Gwen. They hide behind acting annoyed, and teasing. It’s a system that has worked many times before. That doesn’t mean Merlin doesn’t treasure these moments, where they drop the pretense.

*

Gwen’s dress for the ball suits her well. It’s a deep rose color that makes her look like she’s glowing from within. It’s obvious the amount of work she put into it. The fabric alone would have cost her an arm and a leg without the help of the royal treasury, so she insisted on making it herself. She’d spent a better part of a month asking Merlin design questions like he knew a single thing about courtly fashion.

“You look lovely.” He tells her honestly.

Gwen smiles, ducking her head just a bit. She looks like a princess. Even her cramped little cottage she once shared with her father, she glows like royalty. It reminds him a bit of Arthur in that moment. Whenever he makes a particularly noble decision, he glows like that. Maybe it’s the look of destiny.

“Will I fit in, do you think?” she asks anxiously, twisting this way and that as though she can get a better look at herself without the aid of a mirror.

“You’ll be the prettiest there, Gwen. You would be even without this dress, but you look so happy in it you’ll be the talk of the ball.”

“Flatterer.” She jokes.

“I’m guessing my opinion doesn’t matter that much. I’m not the one you’re trying to impress.”

“I’m not trying to impress anybody.” She denies, but can’t bring herself to look at Merlin.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Merlin responds and pauses long enough that Gwen starts to blush, “The person you’re not trying to impress will definitely not notice at all how lovely you look.”

She smiles sweetly at Merlin and gives his shoulder a shove. Merlin grins back at her, and the choice to keep his secret doesn’t weigh so heavily on his shoulders. To keep his dear friends near him, there is very little he wouldn’t do.

“You still haven’t shown me what you’re going to wear, you know.” She points out, and steps behind the screen that divides up the space to change back into her daily wear.

“Wear when?” Merlin asks her.

“To the ball,” Gwen answers, and pokes her head around the edge of the screen, “You are invited aren’t you?”

“Nope.”

“Arthur isn’t making you work, is he?” 

Merlin shakes his head, leaning back on his elbows, “Wouldn’t be proper for him to invite his manservant.”

“He invited me.”

“That’s different.” Merlin responds.

Gwen steps back around the screen as she finishes knotting the laces on her bodice, “Barely.”

Merlin shrugs. He wouldn’t be able to stand going, not as himself. He intends to get drunk, just like he did the year before, and pretend like he isn’t lying to the person closest to him in the world.

“He gave me the night off. He thinks I should drink to the memory of Will.” Merlin says by way of defense.

“Is that what you want to do on a night that’s meant to be about joy?” Gwen asks kindly.

The truth is, Merlin doesn’t know what he wants. Or it would be more accurate to say he does know, but also knows his wants are unrealistic. He wants exactly what he’s wanted from the beginning; to tell Arthur the truth. He wants there to be no more secrets between them, and for them to get a good laugh about how oblivious Arthur has been this whole time.

It won’t happen, and Merlin doesn’t know what he wants instead.

“It’s fine.” He says rather than blurt it all out to Gwen.

She sends him a disapproving look that could rival Gaius and says, “I could talk to Arthur for you, if you wanted.”

“It’s alright, Gwen. You can tell me all about it the next day.”

She looks like she wants to say something else, but thinks better of it. She kisses his cheek, and then shoos him out of her home so she can go about the rest of her day. Merlin, tactfully, doesn’t point out that _she_ ambushed _him_.

*

It turns out Arthur looks damn good in green. Merlin already knew he looked good in brown, thanks to the various coats in his closet, but green is a new color for him. For a moment Merlin wishes, with some angry twisted part of himself, that Arthur looked awful. That green clashed with his hair and made him look ill, and that the druids he’s trying to impress would laugh him out of the hall. He takes a deep breath, forcing the emotion to pass. He has no right to be jealous about the various princes, princesses, ladies, lords, and druids that will inevitably realize just how handsome Arthur truly is.

Honestly, he’s not all that concerned about princes, princesses, ladies, lords, and druids. He knew Arthur would marry someday and leave him behind. He can handle it being an alliance with a powerful kingdom, or to cement peace with the druids. A political match between two nations. What he thinks would tear his heart out, is if Arthur married a sorcerer.

Merlin knows several dozen powerful magic users are invited, and none of them have a claim to any particular nation. If Arthur married one of them, married someone like him, Merlin might go mad.

Arthur holds his arms out to the side, giving Merlin a proper look.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know why everyone keeps asking me. I have three shirts, and one of them used to be yours.” Merlin grumbles.

“What’s gotten into you?” Arthur asks, looking wrong footed.

“Gwen dragged me into her cottage yesterday to ask me the same question about her dress.”

“Oh.” Arthur says awkwardly, “How did she look?”

“Very nice. She always does.”

“Yes. Right.”

“You don’t have to be so bloody awkward about her, you know. She still cares about you a great deal.” Merlin reminds him.

“I highly doubt that.” Arthur responds, picking at a loose string only he can see.

“You were her friend first.” Merlin reminds.

“How do I look?” Arthur asks, changing the subject.

“Not bad.”

“Not bad.” Arthur responds flatly.

“You look…” _Gorgeous. Handsome. You’ll give Gwaine a run for his money._ “Kingly.”

“Thank you, Merlin. That is exactly what I hoped to hear.” Arthur says sarcastically.

“Well I can’t give you a proper compliment, your head would get too big for your crown. Speaking of which…”

“What’s wrong with my crown?” Arthur asks, looking suddenly distressed.

“Nothing. It just makes you look like the King of Camelot.”

“What else am I meant to look like? King of the cabbage patch?”

“Well you are a cabbage-head so it would be fitting.” Merlin responds.

Arthur glares at him, “Merlin.”

Merlin sighs, “I just mean that you’re using this as an event to make peace with the druids as much as celebrate passing legislation on the one good idea you’ve had.”

Arthur frowns a bit and takes his reflection in at the mirror, “I can’t go without. It would be seen as weakness by the visiting Kingdoms.”

“Don’t you have one that’s more…? I don’t know… nature-y?” 

Arthur turns to look at him, and Merlin knows he’s driving Arthur up the wall. He’s probably one infuriating statement away from Arthur smacking him. He’d be more concerned about it if Arthur hadn’t started pulling his punches shortly after they met.

“Need I remind you that you know the contents of my wardrobe as well as I do? Do I have anything that seems nature-y to you?”

Merlin thinks about the crowns he’s polished over the years. None of them have so much as a leaf motif in them. Uther had been too focused on strength to consider beauty.

Merlin quirks his mouth apologetically, “And it would take too long to get a new one made?”

“Yes!” Arthur shouts, eyes wide with frustration.

“I’ll see what I can do, but that should be fine.” Merlin promises, “They’ll appreciate that you went with the colors of the forest if nothing else. The druids aren’t stupid. They’ll know what it means.”

The tension bleeds out of Arthur’s shoulders, and he leans against the desk in his room. His face is lined, and he looks exhausted. Merlin can’t believe he missed it earlier.

“Wait. Are you actually worried?”

“This is my last chance.”

Merlin startles away from his position next to Arthur’s changing screen, and approaches him.

“What do you mean last chance?”

Arthur sighs, dragging a hand down his face, “In order to get the ban lifted I had to make certain agreements. The men who used to serve my father were very against the repeal. I had to give the something.”

“Certain agreements?” Merlin asks.

“I swore I would find someone to court within a year of the announcement. If I don’t find someone I can stand tonight, the decision will be taken out of my hands.” Arthur admits.

“An arranged marriage.”

Arthur nods tiredly. 

“But you want to marry for love!” Merlin shouts, angry on Arthur’s behalf.

“I know that. At the time, I thought I’d be courting Gwen…”

“But that changed.” Merlin says softly. Well that explains a good deal of Arthur’s behavior over the last year. Merlin thought he’d been trying to get over Gwen when in reality he’d been desperately trying to find someone to court.

“I need the ball to go well or I’m going to get married off to some princess I can’t stand simply because she’s useful.”

Merlin leans on the desk as well, offering silent support.

“We’ll figure a way out of it. We always do. Remember when your father tried to set you up with Princess Helaine so I ‘accidentally’ dropped her bags in a creek?”

It has the desired effect. Arthur snorts, and loses some of the tightness around his eyes.

“You swing between wild optimism, and certain pessimism. I never know what to make of it.”

“Have to keep you on your toes.” Merlin teases, “Now change out of those. You have training in a few minutes and if you’re late Leon might send out a search party.”

*

One would think trying to find sticks in the forest would be easy. It is a place with nothing but trees, therefore there should be sticks just laying around.

It turns out that this is not the case. There are plenty of branches, bark, and leaves. All perfect for kindling. But Merlin is not trying to start a fire, and therefore this is all useless to him. 

The idea had seemed like a good one when he’d come across it in one of the tomes Gaius had found in the market. A crown of twigs and gold. There was some significance to it, something about it being used by druids to mark a leader as respected by the triple goddess. Merlin didn’t read that closely. All he noticed were the bit about it being made using magic, and that the illustration of it looked like it would fit perfectly with Arthur’s outfit for the ball.

He’d headed into the forest at midday, expecting to be gone an hour at most. Instead he’d been out so long that the sun is starting to dip below the horizon, and he’s going to need to conjure a ball of light if he wants to keep going.

His face is covered in scratches. His hands don’t fare much better. He’s chased off no less than two wild boars. He missed lunch. He’s starting to think maybe he should give up.

Then, like a sign from the old gods, a perfect twig presents itself. It is worth falling out of a tree in order to collect it.

Arthur shoots him curious looks over the serving tray when Merlin brings him dinner, but apparently decides he’d rather not know why his manservant looks like he was dragged backwards through a hedge. A phrase not entirely figurative in this case.

*

“Where did you get this?” Arthur asks, holding the new crown delicately in is hands.

Merlin grins, pleased that Arthur like his handiwork.

“I asked a witch in town to help me make it. Thought I could make you something nature-y since you didn’t have anything that fit the bill. Try it on.”

He’d stayed up a better part of the night working on it. The twigs are a deep shining red-brown, woven together in ways that should not be possible with wood this sturdy in order to form an intricate circlet. A small halo of twigs weave their way to the sky, imitating the points on Arthur’s regular crown. Each one is tipped in gold. 

When Arthur puts it on, it clashes horribly with the red of his shirt. Even so, it highlights the gold in Arthur’s hair. It will look wonderful when he dresses properly.

“Merlin, how the hell did you think of this?”

Merlin shrugs, “I’ve been reading a lot. I got the design out of one of Gaius’s books. It’s meant to make you look like you’ve been blessed by the old religion. Only someone with magic could make it so it shows you’ve gotten on someone’s good side at least.”

Arthur turns to him, gaze calculating, “You’re not an idiot.”

Merlin frowns, “I knew that. Thought you knew that too.”

Arthur shakes his head slowly, “I forget, sometimes, that you act like a fool to make me feel less alone.”

“As long as you have me, you are not alone.” Merlin says softly.

They share another of those looks. The ones that make Merlin sure that Arthur feels the same way about him. It fills Merlin with equal amounts of warmth and guilt. It feels wrong, sharing these moments while being false.

If he were less selfish, he’d accept the consequences of his actions. He’d tell Arthur, and accept banishment.

He’s not a better person. No matter what the druids seem to think, he’s human. His soul is weak, his insides are squishy, and when he thinks of everyone getting to look at Arthur in that stupid get up with that stupid crown, he is horribly jealous.

Unfortunately, he makes his worst decisions when it comes to his affections for Arthur. They become even worse when he’s jealous. He hadn’t been able to look Percival in the face for weeks after Gwen and Arthur started courting. He’d been very kind when rejecting Merlin’s drunken kiss, and that made it worse.

Really, something like this should have been expected the second Arthur brought up the marriage ultimatum. Merlin somehow still surprises himself. He pauses several times in his research to question the wisdom of this half-baked mess of an idea, but each time the thought of having to get drunk with Gwaine while not knowing what faceless person is winning Arthur’s affections drives him to keep going.

He digs the shirt that used to be Arthur’s out of the bottom of the wardrobe, where he keeps it for special occasions. He steals Gwaine’s spare cape one night when Gwaine isn’t paying attention. Lancelot figures out what he’s planning, because Lancelot seems attuned to Merlin’s magical scheming no matter the form, and quietly provides him a pair of trousers that hasn’t been repaired a thousand times. Merlin also smuggles some of the rings that Arthur keeps in the drawer next to his bed. All of them are ugly and completely the wrong style so Arthur won’t notice their absence.

When Merlin assembles all the pieces, he looks like an idiot. He absolutely looks like he’s been borrowing clothes from other people. Were he anyone else, he probably would have taken that as a sign that his idea was mad.

Instead he spends three hours pouring magic into the garments. He can change the basic shape of them so that they fit him, but when it comes to changing the color he has a problem. The only color he can conjure is black. After his fifth attempt to change his short from purple to anything but black, he leans into it. Shirt, trousers, cape, boots; all are black.

The magic he uses to change his appearance is nearly the same as when he transforms into Dragoon. Though his results are only mildly more cooperative than the results for the clothes. In the end he looks a bit like if Leon had a little brother. As long as he’s unrecognizable, it doesn’t matter too much to him.

He comes trotting down the stairs from his room just after sunset, having helped Arthur change in the afternoon. Gaius glances at him and does a double take.

“Merlin?” he asks incredulously.

“So you can still tell it’s me?” Merlin asks, stomach in knots.

Gaius shakes his head a bit, “I wouldn’t if I wasn’t expecting you.”

The nervousness eases.

“Can I ask why you’re dressed in a disguise?”

Merlin grimaces, “I’m going to the ball.”

“And the reason you’re not going as a friend of the king?”

“I wasn’t exactly invited.” Merlin admits.

Gaius’s mouth thins disapprovingly, “Merlin.”

“I’m worried about Arthur.” Merlin says defensively. It’s not technically a lie. He is worried about Arthur, just not for his life. Gaius doesn’t need to know that.

“This is still not a wise plan, my boy.” Gaius admonishes, but at least Merlin is spared the eyebrow of doom. 

“I couldn’t think of any other way to get in without Arthur knowing it was me.”

Gaius remains unconvinced, “Spells like this are unreliable. Do you not remember the first time you tried looking like an old man?”

“I’ve come a long way since then,” Merlin points out, “And I’ve put a time limit on it so I don’t even need to swallow one of those god awful potions to change back. By midnight I will be regular old Merlin.”

Gaius sighs, shakes his head, and gestures to the door. Merlin grins and make for the door, clapping Gaius on the shoulder on his way out.

He slides easily into the pack of people still entering the hall. Unlike Arthur, every visiting noble and royal seems to have taken their own sweet time getting ready. 

“Name, sir?” One of the announcers ask.

“Oh. That’s alright. I don’t need to be announced.” Merlin says quickly.

The announcer still looks puzzled, and holds out a hand, “I still need to see your invitation, sir.”

“Of course.” Merlin says, and produces the fake invitation he’d duplicated earlier. For name all he provided was Emrys. The druids are bound to out him anyway, may as well go all in on the mysterious powerful sorcerer shtick. 

The announcer nods, hands it back, and Merlin slips into the hall. He’s not sure how Arthur intends to cram everyone in, but the feast hall is already overflowing with people. 

He spots Morgana off to one side of the room, and he is met with a familiar twist of guilt.

He’ll never forget that he was the reason Arthur was forced to beg her to return. It had been six months before the repeal of the ban. Morgana had vanished at least a year before that, slipping further and further into Morgause’s grasp.

She’d attempted an invasion, ready to kill Uther and name herself queen. Her green eyes blazed with fury. Arthur had stopped her before she could reach Uther’s chambers, and wrapped his hands around hers, gazing at her imploringly.

“Please, Morgana. You haven’t done anything wrong yet.”

Morgana had snorted, and attempted to drag her hands free, “According to our father, I was born wrong.”

Arthur had managed to ignore the bait about Morgana being his half-sister, and in a surprising show of vulnerability said, “I don’t understand.”

“I have magic. I didn’t choose it, it chose me, and both of you have made it very clear about your feelings towards my kind.”

Arthur had frowned then, tightening his grip so she couldn’t pull away, “You’re not evil, Morgana.”

Morgana had tossed her hair regally, defiantly, “I know, but I refuse to let my people suffer because of one man’s opinion.”

Arthur had nodded, “Okay. We’ll do better. The two of us. Show me the good, my lady.”

It had taken six months for the two of them to trust each other again, and for them to pass the legislation to lift the ban. Uther had a stroke from the stress of Morgana having magic, and passed quietly in his sleep. Merlin was hard pressed to care.

The guilt of leaving Morgana to figure it out on her own after the failed encounter with the druids still eats at him. If he’d been a better person, then he would have helped her himself. Maybe he could have prevented her from giving in to Morgause, and prevented a lot of pain.

As he watches, Gwen approaches Morgana. Morgana’s entire face lights up, and she takes Gwen’s hands in her own. Merlin smiles a bit to himself. He knew Gwen would take Morgana’s breath away in that dress.

He moves deeper into the room, eyes scanning the crowd for Arthur. He spots him in discussion with an older man at the back of the room. The crown gleams in the candle light, and it makes Arthur stand out. He is a king of man, and a king of magic. He’s beautiful.

A young druid woman catches Merlin by the arm, eyes wide, “Emrys! We were not aware you were coming.”

Merlin gently extricates his arm from her, and smiles awkwardly, “I wasn’t really. The king doesn’t know who I am to send me an invitation.”

The druid woman cocks her head, “But the stories say you’re by his side. He’s wearing a crown of your making, it shows you have blessed him.”

Well that wasn’t exactly what he was going for, but it works. If everyone magical thinks Arthur was blessed by Emrys maybe that will keep them from swarming Arthur like bees to honey.

“It’s a bit complicated.” Merlin responds.

The druid woman inclines her head in a druid’s version of a bow, “Of course, my lord Emrys.”

“Just Emrys is fine.” Merlin says, feeling a bit strangled.

She nods again, and weaves her way into the crowd. Merlin hopes she spreads the word that he doesn’t want to be called lord.

He begins weaving closer. Avoiding the servants laden down with trays with a practiced ease after years of dodging them in the halls when he’s on a mission. He’s not sure what his end goal is here. Getting close enough to Arthur to eavesdrop without drawing attention to himself is going to be a difficult with the eyes of the druids following his form.

Another hand catches his arm, harder this time. Then he’s thrown up against a wall. Morgana leans in, bringing them face to face, the tip of her dagger rests dangerously close to his stomach.

“Why are you in disguise?” she hisses, voice low. She’s probably trying not to draw attention and upset the tentative peace.

“It’s a bit complicated. My lady.” Merlin responds and winces when he realizes just how much he uses that phrase when he doesn’t want to explain, praying that even if Morgana can tell there’s a spell she can’t tell that it’s _him_ under it.

“I’ll make it simple then. What do you want with my brother?” she asks, pressing the tip forward threateningly.

“I come in peace, my lady. I mean no harm, I’m just here to celebrate all he’s done.”

“Who are you?”

“Emrys.” Merlin responds and the effect is instantaneous. 

Morgana steps back so quickly it’s almost a leap. Her eyes are wide, scared, and apologetic. She starts to apologize to him, and it is so strange Merlin shakes his head, and grasps her arms to stop the flow of words.

“No harm done. I’m glad he has someone on his side.”

At that moment, Gwen returns. She’s carrying drinks for her and Morgana, and she looks between them, concerned.

“Is everything alright?”

Merlin lets go of Morgana’s arms, and steps back almost as quickly as Morgana stepped away from him. Morgana smiles lovingly at Gwen.

“It’s alright. There was a bit of a misunderstanding.”

“Oh.” Gwen says, eyes flickering between them, “I’m Gwen.”

Merlin takes the offered hand, and bends low to press a kiss to the knuckles. If he can bring a little joy to his friends then he will, and he’s gratified when Gwen blushes happily at being treated like a lady.

“Emrys.” Merlin introduces himself.

Gwen’s eyes light with recognition and glances to Morgana, “Isn’t he the one you told me about?”

“Yes.” Morgana confirms, “The most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth.”

Merlin is still pretty sure they have the wrong man. He can’t even change clothes to the exact color that he wants, hardly seems like he could be the most powerful sorcerer if he can’t do something like that. He doesn’t say any of this out loud. Instead he just smiles winningly and bows to Morgana.

“You are too kind, my lady. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I spotted the drink tray.”

He spends a good deal of the night fending of druids. It seems like every single one of them has decided they need to discuss matters with him immediately and in great detail. It occurs to him that this is what Arthur must feel like. Although, thankfully, Merlin has yet to have anyone offer their hand in marriage.

He loses track of Arthur in the crowd again and again. Each time he spots him again, he’s talking to someone else. He looks very kingly and handsome no matter how thin his patience.

Merlin loses track of Arthur when a very pushy old druid man starts asking the mighty Emrys to bless something or other. By the time Merlin gets him to leave, Arthur is locked into a conversation with King Urien. Merlin winces in sympathy. Urien had started pushing Arthur to marry his daughter back before Arthur was even the crown prince. By the looks of things, he’s pushing that agenda now.

Before Merlin can really think better of what he’s doing, he crosses the hall. He smiles politely at Urien, and rests a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Would you mind terribly if I took the king for a dance?” 

Urien scowls, opening his mouth to say no, but Arthur beats him to the punch.

“You know how it is, Urien. Have to dance with everyone as the hosting king. We can reconvene later.”

Annoyed, Urien sulks off. No doubt he’s going to pester another king for a marriage proposal.

Merlin turns to Arthur as soon as Urien is out of earshot, and grins, “You don’t really have to dance with me. I just noticed you looking a bit desperate.”

Arthur laughs, smiling broader than he has most of the evening, “I was. You have no idea how difficult it is to reject a proposal without starting a war.”

“Ever think they keep pestering just hoping you’ll give in to keep a war from happening?”

“All the time.” Arthur responds and holds his hand out, “Come on.”

“Come on where?” Merlin asks.

Arthur rolls his eyes a little, “You asked me to dance.”

“Yes but I also said you didn’t have to.” Merlin points out.

“Consider it a favor. If you’re dancing with me it is much harder for anyone to talk to me.”

“I have two left feet.” Merlin warns as he takes Arthur’s hand.

“I’d rather you trod on my foot than put up with another minute of matchmaker.”

He draws Merlin out to the dance floor. His hand settles on Merlin’s waist, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. It only looks new and thick. He threads the fingers of his other hand through Merlin’s. Merlin can feel the sword calluses, and the crooked pinky Arthur got in a training accident at age sixteen.

Arthur pulls him close then, and Merlin can’t breathe. He’s been in Arthur’s personal space too many times to count, but the only time they’ve been face to face is if Arthur was literally dying. He looks even better in that blasted crown up close. This is all new, especially when Arthur starts leading them through the steps of the dance.

“I’ve been meaning to approach you.” Arthur says conversationally.

“Oh? Why’s that?” Merlin asks, trying to concentrate on anything but Arthur’s face.

“It seems you’re the great Emrys of legend. The most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth.” Arthur says and turns Merlin with surprising grace before drawing him back in, “The druids are also under the impression you made my crown.”

“I might have.” Merlin admits.

“I was given to understand my servant procured it from a witch.”

“He procured it from me,” Merlin says, trying to keep up with his lies like the steps of the dance, “I looked like a witch at the time.”

“Why the hell would you want to look like a witch?” Arthur asks.

Merlin raises his eyebrows in a challenge, “Are you saying if you could hide from your enemies that effectively, you wouldn’t?”

“Fair enough. It’s hard to imagine you with enemies.”

Merlin tilts his head, “I’m a powerful sorcerer. Of course I have enemies.”

Arthur laughs a little, and nods, “I suppose. I guess I can’t imagine anyone hating someone as handsome as you.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Merlin asks. He’s so shocked he actually does step on Arthur’s foot.

Arthur winces but offers Merlin a smile, “You are the only person here tonight that has not come to me with the intention of getting some political deal pushed through. That, and your good looks, have endeared me to you greatly. You also gave me a blessed crown that kept me from looking like a fool in front of the druids. That alone would have me kissing you in thanks.”

Merlin chuckles, shaking his head. He’s not as thrown off by this as he expected. Arthur’s flirting is dangerously close to the banter they share on the day to day. It feels natural, normal.

“Well there’s nothing stopping you.” Merlin tease.

Arthur looks around the room significantly, “There’s a room full of people.”

“Shame.”

The music comes to an end, and everyone steps away from their partners. There’s a lot of bowing and curtsying, and a new group of dancers sweep onto the floor. Merlin starts to step away, but Arthur catches his elbow, and tilts his chin towards the exit.

“Why don’t we get some air?”

If Merlin were a better person, a stronger person, or even a smarter person, he would have said no. Instead the part of him that’s been desperate to acknowledge his feelings for Arthur since the moment he recognized them, takes over, and he follows Arthur from the room.

The night air is blissfully cool, as Arthur guides him down to the training grounds. Leave it to the prat to go there instead of somewhere romantic like the gardens. 

Arthur takes a seat on the low wall that delineates the end of the practice field, and pats the empty spot next to him. Merlin joins him.

They sit in silence for a while, just staring at the moon above them. 

“The druids are under the impression you’ve been by my side this whole time, protecting me.” Arthur says softly, turning to look at Merlin.

“The druids have big mouths.” Merlin grumbles.

“So it’s true?” 

Merlin shrugs, “Not literally.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I am a very powerful sorcerer, and am capable of doing many things.”

When did he start talking like Kilgharrah?

Beside him Arthur chuckles, and Merlin grins.

“When they started talking about you being there, I assumed you were one of the old men sitting off to the side.”

“I get that a lot. Everyone seems to forget that legends have to be young before they get to be old.” 

Arthur laughs again, and nudges Merlin with his shoulder, “Go on. Why have you been protecting me all this time?”

“You are going to be a great king. You’ve already made strides by undoing your father’s wrongs. I wanted to make sure you got the chance to be the man destiny promised.”

It’s close enough to the truth.

“I’m afraid you expect too much from me. I doubt I’ll be much more than a footnote in history. I don’t think I’ll be the man you need.”

“Not on your own.” Merlin agrees, feeling almost drunk on the ability to speak to Arthur about this without having to couch it in stories, “But you have friends and family who see what I see. Listen to their advice, trust your instincts, and you’ll be alright.”

They fall into silence again, and Merlin gazes back up at the moon. Arthur is the one to break the spell again.

“I’m glad you’re not an old man.” He says softly.

That draws Merlin’s attention and he turns to look at Arthur, “why?”

Arthur smiles, showing a hint of his crooked front teeth Merlin loves, “Because if you were old I couldn’t do this.”

He leans in then, mouth slightly parted, and for once Merlin’s brain stops him from making a massive mistake. He raises his hand, stopping Arthur’s movement. Arthur draws back, eyes going politely blank.

“I apologize. I misread things.”

“No!” Merlin says a little too forcefully and Arthur stares at him with the same confused crinkle as when he met Dragoon for the first time, “I want to. I do.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I can’t.” Merlin says, “I can’t.”

“Why?” Arthur whispers, unbearably soft in the moonlight.

“There are things you don’t know.” Somewhere over their shoulders the nightly patrol clanks passed, and Merlin straightens, “What time is it?”

“Probably nearing midnight. Why?” Arthur asks.

Merlin leaps to his feet, “I have to go.”

“Wait!” Arthur shouts, starting to give chase as Merlin bolts for the safety of Gaius’s room, “Wait! Don’t go! Please!”

Merlin ignores him and continues his mad dash. One of his borrowed rings, slightly too big for his finger, slips off and clatters to the cobblestone. He pauses, intending to pick it up, but Arthur rounds the corner. He abandons it, and instead tosses a spell over his shoulder so that it doesn’t look one of Arthur’s.

He whips through the door into the stables, and hunkers down in an empty stall. He hears Arthur as he runs by. Then he waits for several minutes just to be sure Arthur is gone. He finally emerges from his hiding spot when the last of his disguise melts away.

He creeps back to Gaius’s, careful to avoid the patrols. He steps inside, closes the door behind himself, and falls against it. He lets out a relieved sigh.

“How was the ball?” Gaius asks dryly.

“No one tried to assassinate Arthur for once.” Merlin answers, and peels himself away from the door.

“A success then.” Gaius says.

“I’m headed to bed.” Merlin announces, and climbs the stairs to his room.

He collapses face first into his bed. In the morning he’ll need to deal with returning Arthur’s rings without him noticing, and inevitably deal with Arthur’s stories about meeting Emrys.

For now though, he can sleep and dream of how it felt to be held close by Arthur.


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin drags himself out of bed with the sun, the memories of dancing Arthur playing on the edges of his consciousness. He finds himself hiding a smile as he gets ready for the day. He shrugs into his jacket, and collects the two remaining rings he borrowed from Arthur. 

He holds his hand out, palm up, and focuses intensely at the air just above it. He pictures the missing ring in his mind until he has a clear picture of it. Then he whispers an enchantment, and a copy sit in his palm. It’s just an illusion, if anyone tried to put it on it would fade away, but it will keep Arthur from noticing anything missing until Merlin can figure out what to do.

He stops and wolfs down a quick bowl of porridge with Gaius who stares at him suspiciously the whole time. Merlin makes an effort to hide his good mood behind a massive mouthful of food, then darts out the door before Gaius can question him.

He swings by the kitchens, collecting Arthur’s breakfast tray. The kitchen staff are all abuzz about the ball and who the King might court from it. Several of the maids discuss Gwen’s dress.

Merlin keeps himself from interjecting. According to anyone else he went to the rising sun and got blind drunk. Gaius, and possibly Lancelot, are the only ones who know about his little foray into the party.

He climbs the stairs to Arthur’s room and doesn’t stop to knock like he should. It’s not like it would wake Arthur enough to get permission anyway. The ass sleeps like the dead.

To Merlin’s great surprise, Arthur is awake when he enters. He’s wearing the clothes from the night before, but the crown had been settles carefully on the table. The bed is turned down, but clearly hasn’t been slept in. He gazes out the window, occasionally turning something over in his fingers.

Merlin’s heart pounds painfully against his chest when he sees that it’s the ring from the night before, the one he dropped.

“Have you been up all night?” he asks, trying to keep his tone as obnoxious as possible.

Arthur blinks and comes back to reality. He stares at Merlin silently, eyes a little unfocussed.

“I met someone at the ball.” He says finally.

“Well that’s good.” Merlin says and sets the tray down on the table, “Going to tell the council the good news?”

“I don’t know who they are.”

Merlin summons a look of what he hopes is confusion and not panic, “How can you not know who they are?”

“They ran away.” Arthur says miserably and drags a hand through his hair.

Merlin’s stomach twists with guilt, “Probably because of your bad breath.”

“Thank you, Merlin. You always know how to cheer me up.” Arthur responds dryly.

“Hey, you’re the one who punched me on the arm the one time you tried to make me feel better.”

“I’ve tried to cheer you up loads of times since then!”

Merlin grins and Arthur rolls his eyes. He takes a seat at the table and starts digging into his breakfast, carefully leaving a couple of sausages for Merlin to ‘steal’.

“You don’t have anything to figure out who they might be?”

“I know their name.”

“Oh?” Merlin feels faint.

“Emrys. The most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth.”

“Well I’ll give this to you, you never set your sights on something easy. If you know his name then why can’t you track him down?”

Merlin is torn between elation and terror. On one hand he was definitely right about this thing between them. On the other hand the weight of the lies starts to crush him down.

“I don’t exactly have a castle I can send a messenger to, do I?” Arthur grumbles.

“Okay. You’re crabby when you don’t get enough sleep.”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“Yes, sire.”

Arthur sighs and drags his hand down his face again. Then, like he can’t keep the story to himself, he looks at Merlin again.

“All he left behind was a ring.”

“Maybe he’ll come back and get it.”

Arthur’s eyes light up, and Merlin almost groans aloud. He knows that look. That same look convinced him to hide Arthur at Gwen’s the time they entered Arthur in the tournament under a fake name.

“Oh no. No. Whatever you’re thinking it’s a bad idea.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin.” Arthur says, “Bring me a piece of parchment would you?”

“What are you going to do?”

“You know, I am actually the king. I don’t need to explain my every thought to you.”

“Mostly because you don’t have any.”

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice carries that tone that means ‘do what I say before I make you muck out the horses’.

Merlin sighs and retrieves some parchment and a quill. Arthur shoves aside his breakfast tray and begins drafting. After several moments of intense scribbling, Merlin can’t stand the silence any longer.

“What are you writing?”

“I’m drafting a proclamation.” Arthur responds without looking up.

“What kind of proclamation?”

Arthur sighs, resting his quill back in the inkwell, giving Merlin an annoyed look.

“I’m asking all sorcerers of marriageable age to present themselves at court.”

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Pray tell, Merlin. Why are you impugning your King’s intelligence this time?”

Merlin takes up his customary seat across from Arthur. He settles his elbows on the table.

“Up until very recently you were helping your father hunt down them and their kin. If you try to get them all to present themselves they’re going to think it’s a trick to round them up and slaughter them.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“ _You_ wouldn’t.” the ‘but your father would have’ is left unsaid.

Arthur sags back in his chair, some of the enthusiasm leaving him. He stares into the middle distance, thinking through his options. It’s what makes him such a good king. He stops to consider other points of view before charging in.

“Maybe I can ask just him to present himself.” Arthur suggests.

“Have you considered that he might have had a good reason to run?” Merlin asks desperately.

“What do you mean?”

“What if he’s trying to keep his true identity a secret?”

Arthur frowns, “Why would he need to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin says and tries to play off the tightness in his throat as laughter, “Maybe he’s a secret sorcerer that likes to work from the shadows?”

If he could, he’d slap himself right now. Stupid big mouth. The only thing preventing him from going through with it is that Arthur would find it exceedingly odd.

“You get the strangest ideas. You may have a point about the sorcerers. I’ll open it up to everyone of marriageable age in the kingdom. That will be all, Merlin.”

When Merlin leaves, he briefly considers braining himself on the stone wall outside of Arthur’s room but thinks better of it. He just has to stay out of Arthur’s net. Should be easy. He’s been practicing magic practically in front of his face for years. This can’t be all that much more difficult.

He’s all the way back down by the laundry by the time he realizes he forgot to return the rings in his pocket. He nearly screams with frustration.

Arthur makes the announcement that afternoon. He stands on the balcony, crimson cape cracking in the wind. He’s wearing that stupid twig crown Merlin made him because he insisted it showed respect to Emrys, no matter that the red-brown clashes horribly with the crimson.

He makes some long winded speech about love, honor, and unity with magic. Then finishes it all off with the request for everyone to present themselves at court.

So proceeds the most uncomfortable afternoon of his life. Apparently being the King’s manservant means he has secret knowledge about how to get on Arthur’s good side in case they failed the test presented. If he thought attending Arthur in the throne room as he tested the ring on everyone was going to be better, he was wrong. Apparently whatever enchantment he’d thrown over his shoulder the night before as he fled had the unintended effect of causing the metal to burn anyone trying it on. 

He spends the rest of the day listening to hisses of pain, and watching person after person slink away. Patience has never been one of Arthur’s strong suits, but apparently he has enough patience to stick to the madness because as Merlin dresses him for bed that evening, he grins and flops back onto the bed with a dreamy look on his face.

“He’s out there.”

Merlin’s hands inadvertently tighten on the tunic he’s putting away, and he keeps his head hidden in shadow, “I just don’t want you to be disappointed if he doesn’t want to be found.”

“I’ll find him. I’ve never lost prey before.”

“Have you considered that calling him prey might be a bit of a turn-off?” Merlin asks conversationally.

“You know what I mean.” 

“And you have lost prey before. Lots of times.”

“I have not!” Arthur says indignantly, and sits up so he can glare at Merlin properly.

“You lost a rabbit last week.” Merlin teases.

“Only because your clumsy stomping scared it away.”

“If I scare away prey does that mean I can have the day off tomorrow instead of watching you spend another afternoon trying to get that ring onto someone?” Merlin asks with a sunny smile.

Arthur huffs a laugh and shakes his head, “Nice try, Merlin. I need you to hand out water with Gwen, and be there to attend to me if I need something.”

“I don’t know why Emrys would be avoiding you, you’re obviously a catch.”

He dodges the pillow thrown at his head with practiced ease.

*

To his absolute horror, Arthur’s quest to find Emrys doesn’t stop after a week. It doesn’t stop after a month. It doesn’t stop after three months. In fact it lasts until five months, and is still going strong.

The stream into the throne room stopped after about six weeks, so Arthur took to riding out to outlying villages. He somehow manages to convince the council that the trips are necessary because it allows him to check in on those citizens that don’t get the attention the ones living closer to the castle get.

What that means is that Merlin spends more time with his legs aching from horse riding than ever before. Gwaine is ready to stage a coup by week three, and only Lancelot’s calming presence keeps from going through with it. 

Arthur enlists Morgana’s help at two months. Merlin is just relieved that her gifts aren’t up to his just yet so her tracking spell doesn’t work.

It saves him from Arthur’s scrutiny. It, however, does not save him from Lancelot’s amused glances.

*

Arthur collapses heavily by the fire, and Merlin winces in sympathy. Seven months in and Arthur still hasn’t come any closer to ending this ridiculous quest. Merlin has been tempted more than once tp give in and put Arthur out of his misery.

They’d let the knights stay in the last village to rest. Arthur was desperate to get a head start, and that Merlin had to ride with him.

Merlin settles across from the fire, watching Arthur silently. All he does is stare despondently into the flames.

“Are you alright?” Merlin asks softly. 

“I’d hoped to find him by now.” Arthur admits.

Merlin’s mouth twists with guilt, “Why do you want to find him so badly? You only knew him for a few minutes.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve tried to feel things for the political matches I’ve been presented, just trying to find them at all attractive. It’s never worked. I didn’t feel anything for anyone until I met… I mean until Guinevere I became close. Then when I let her go for Morgana I thought I’d—But I felt like I knew him. I felt like I could feel something more for him.”

Merlin lets go of the hesitation in the sentence. No matter how curious he is, he isn’t going to poke that particular wound. Though he has the feeling that Arthur had met someone before Gwen.

“Arthur, I think he doesn’t want to be found.” He says gently, and not for the first time.

Arthur looks at him with wounded desperate eyes, “Even you can’t think I’m that awful.”

Merlin smiles a little, “You’re an insufferable prat, but you’re a good man under it all. You said yourself that he warned you that there were things you didn’t know. Maybe it’s one of those things that’s keeping him from you.”

It’s the truth, or as close to it as Merlin can manage any longer. He wants nothing more to cross to the other side of the fire, and kiss that lost look from Arthur’s face. But it would ruin everything, and Merlin isn’t a good man. Probably hasn’t been since he first lied to Arthur.

“The council gave me a deadline for this search,” Arthur sighs, “It’s fast approaching.”

“I already told you that I wouldn’t let them marry you off.” Merlin insists, “If I have to kill them to keep it from happening I will. Or I’ll marry you myself to buy you some time. I bet you could convince Morgana to turn them all into toads in a pinch.”

Arthur cracks a small smile. It’s the first one since the searches in the outlying villages started. Not for the first time, Merlin winders if this is all worth it. Trading Arthur’s happiness for his own. He’s so used to the exchange being the other way around that he doesn’t know what to do. It can’t be right to keep letting Arthur run himself ragged, but any time he opens his mouth to admit it all fear overtakes him and the words get lodged in his throat.

“I want to keep looking.” Arthur says after some time.

“But” Merlin starts but Arthur shakes his head.

“I’ve heard what you said, Merlin. I know that this will probably amount to nothing. I’m just… not ready to give up the ghost just yet.”

Merlin opens to protest but, after some consideration, closes it. He nods once. “We keep going.”

Arthur smiles again, the tired lines of his face softening.

“Thank you, Merlin.”

*

They meet Mordred again. Merlin’s gut reaction is to keep him as far from Arthur as possible, Kilgharrah’s warning echoing in his ears all these years later. Then he reminds himself that if they could sway Morgana back to their side, they can sway a young man who has no quarrel with them.

Then Arthur insists that Mordred try on the ring too, just in case, and Merlin wants to keep Arthur from him for an entirely different reason.

The ring doesn’t burn when it settles on his finger, but his mouth screws up in discomfort. He removes it, and presses it back into Arthur’s palm.

“I am not Emrys, my lord.” Mordred says solemnly, and makes direct eye contact with Merlin as he does.

Merlin glares at him so hard he’s surprised Mordred doesn’t go up in flames.

*  
“No way am I trying on a ring that burns people!” Gwaine says indignantly.

“It’s not like I’m going to make you keep it on.” Arthur reasons and grabs for Gwaine’s hand.

Gwaine backs away, hand going threateningly to his sword. Arthur rolls his eyes at the antics and turns to Merlin.

“Make him listen, please.”

“I am not Gwaine’s keeper.” Merlin grumbles.

“You may as well be.” 

“I resent that.” Gwaine says from the other side of the armory, “No one can keep me.”

“Yes, Gwaine. We are well aware that you are a free spirit. Just humor me.” Arthur pleads.

“Gwaine if you try it on I’ll get the first two rounds at the Rising Sun tonight.” Merlin says feeling the parent of an uncooperative child.

“Make it three.”

“I can’t afford three.” Merlin whines.

“For God’s sake!” Arthur shouts, “I’ll cover all three rounds. Just try on the damn ring.”

Gwaine crosses back across the room and slips the ring onto his finger. He yanks it off with a hiss and drops it into Arthur’s palm.

“Happy, Princess?”

Arthur looks conflicted, “I am relieved that I haven’t been chasing you across the kingdom, but I was rather hoping for a break through.”

*

It burns all of the knights. It burns Gwen. In a desperate attempt fueled by too much wine it burns a few of the village chickens.

Merlin is nearly hysterical with stress.

*

Arthur falls face first into bed, and doesn’t move for several minutes. Merlin is just beginning to worry that Arthur is going to attempt to smother himself in the mound of pillows in order to put himself out of his misery, when he flops onto his back. He stares at the ceiling like it has personally wronged him in some way.

“I don’t understand.” He says weakly.

Merlin sighs. They’ve had this exact conversation many times over the last nine months. The irritation mixes with guilt and makes him want to scream. Instead he takes a calming breath.

“Arthur, I don’t think he wants to be found.” He repeats.

“I thought I would have found him by now.” Arthur repeats and Merlin considers smothering him himself.

“But you haven’t, and you’ve tried every citizen in Camelot. You don’t even know if Emrys is in Camelot. He could be from Essetir, or Mercia, or Nemeth.”

Arthur groans loudly and chucks a pillow across the room. For once it’s not at Merlin. 

“Are you sure we’ve tried everyone in Camelot?”

“Well I don’t think you tried with Gaius or Morgana.”

Arthur props himself up on his elbows, and glares, “I’m glad this is so amusing, Merlin.”

“I’m just trying to keep you from going mad over this. If Emrys wants to be found, he’ll find you.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t.” Merlin says hastily, “But either he hasn’t heard about your search which means he’s probably a weird hermit or something, or he has heard and hasn’t come forward. Either way that isn’t possibly someone you could want to marry.”

“I almost feel like you don’t want me to find him.” Arthur accuses.

Merlin glances away. He does want to be found, but not if it means having to give everything up.

“It’s not that. I just don’t think you should keep chasing someone who can’t be bothered to respond to you. If this is about avoiding the deadline, I already gave you three solid options”

“Murder is not a ‘solid option’ you idiot.” Arthur says.

“Well they can’t possibly expect you to marry if someone is going around assassinating your council members.” Merlin points out and it draws a snort from Arthur.

“Are you sure we’ve reached every citizen in Camelot?”

“Yes.” Merlin insist. They have hit every citizen. Technically until he marries someone he’s still a citizen of Essetir.

Arthur scowls, and sits up properly. He looks at Merlin, and his scowl deepens.

“There’s someone missing from our count.” He says darkly.

“Who?”

“You.”

Merlin’s heart plummets. He grins at Arthur and prays that he doesn’t look as shaky as he feels.

“No. I tried it on the day of the announcement, remember?”

More lies. God, he’s sick of them.

“Are you sure about that?” Arthur asks, standing up.

“I’m sure.” Merlin promises and starts tidying away dinner.

“Then you won’t mind trying it on again.” Arthur says, “Since it didn’t work the first time. I want to make sure my bases are covered.”

“I’m not keen on getting burned again.”

“If you get burned I’ll buy you a drink.” Arthur responds.

If. Not when. 

“Thought royalty couldn’t be seen buying drinks for their servants.” Merlin jokes and tries to step by Arthur with the tray. When had he gotten so close?

“Try on the ring, Merlin.”

They stare at each other. Arthur’s eyes are dark and angry. Merlin’s heart is caught in his throat.

“Please, Arthur, don’t make me try on the ring.” Merlin whispers.

“Why?”

“Just… please. For once, don’t make me do it.”

Arthur steps back, lip curling in disgust. He turns away from Merlin, shoulders tense.

“You’re Emrys.” He spits.

“Arthur…” Merlin says gently.

Arthur whirls around, eyes blazing, “You let me go on a wild goose chase for almost a year. You let me think Emrys didn’t want me. That _you_ didn’t want me.”

“I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“You lied to me! Even after I repealed the ban you still lied to me!”

“I didn’t want to lose you.” Merlin says helplessly.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Arthur, you gave my magic meaning. You became my friend. I knew you’d be angry about everything I kept hidden from you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the person who meant everything to me.” Merlin explains and takes a hesitant step forward.

Arthur takes a step back, “I thought I was more than your friend. All those moments we shared, I thought we had something deeper. But you just thought I was a fool.”

“I never thought you were a fool.” Merlin swears, “Okay. Maybe I thought you were a fool that time you got cornered by Morgana’s cat. But I never ever thought you were a fool about this. I was hiding. This on me.”

“How could you let me crisscross the kingdom in search of you? If you don’t think I’m a fool then explain that.”

Merlin shakes his head, “I tried to stop you. I told you I didn’t want to be found.”

Arthur lets out a hysterical laugh that is too close to a sob for comfort.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur. My magic is for you. Only for you. I never meant to hurt you.”

Arthur looks at him from the corner of his eye, “The gryphon, the dragon, and all those bandits. That was you. Each time.”

“It was my destiny to serve you. But in the end, I think destiny is what we make of it. Morgana and Mordred were meant to be your doom, but now they’re your fiercest allies. I was never meant to fall in love with you, but I did.”

“All this time the most powerful sorcerer in the world has been washing my socks.”

“I did use magic for a lot of it.” Merlin admits, “I told you once that I was happy to be your servant until the day I die, and I meant it. I would have stayed by your side, hiding my true self all the while, if it meant you were safe and happy.”

Arthur shakes his head, “I don’t know what to do with that kind of loyalty.”

“You don’t have to do anything with it, you have it. Just… please don’t banish me. I’m meant to be here. My life is here. You’re here.”

“After this, how can I be sure that you won’t betray me again?”

“I know it feels like betrayal. But I never betrayed you. Technically I’m a criminal but every crime I’ve committed has been to protect you.” Merlin explains and takes another hesitant step forward, this time Arthur doesn’t step back, “Please understand the position I was in. I never wanted to lie to you. You can ask how badly I wanted to tell you.”

“Why did you come to the ball?” Arthur asks, finally meeting Merlin’s eyes.

Merlin groans loudly, “You looked really good in the clothes, and I couldn’t stay behind and think of all the people who’d be courting you when you looked like that.”

Arthur huffs a laugh, smiling just a bit, “You were jealous? You risked exposure because you were jealous?”

“I was not jealous.” Merlin says, the denial automatic.

This time, Arthur steps forward, and takes Merlin’s hand in his own, “Is that offer of marriage still on the table?”

Merlin rubs his thumb along Arthur’s knuckles, “I don’t know. Shouldn’t there be courting first.”

Arthur snorts, “Please. We’ve been courting for years even if neither of us wanted to admit it.”

Merlin smiles hopefully, “Then yes. The offer still stands. If that’s what you want.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m not angry.” Arthur warns, eyebrows raised.

Merlin nods, “I know. I’m sorry.”

Arthur tilts his head, considering, “You have a type, Merlin.”

“A type?”

“Well first you have a crush on Morgana…”

“I never had a crush on Morgana, you insufferable…” His protest is cut off by Arthur kissing him.


End file.
